


Drabble Age: II

by lottiezeb



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, How Do I Tag, no sebastian sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lottiezeb/pseuds/lottiezeb
Summary: Hodge podge of lil snippets with DA2 characters.





	1. ??

Rivaini kicks sand at me. “Varric. Varric. Varric! The water is perfect today. Live a little for once, go on!”  
“I told you. Dwarves just sink.” I fold my arms stolidly and gaze across the sand to the froth of waves where Hawke splashes at her mabari, who leaps in a frenzied circle and snaps at the water.  
Anders squints at me consideringly, nose already sunburned. “It’s the chest hair, isn’t it? He’s holding out on you, Isabela.”  
Her eyes widen and she stomps her foot. “Varric, you rat! How could you deny me?”  
“Tough job but someone’s got to do it,” Aveline murmurs to no one in particular.  
Isabela whirls, sending sand and beads of water flying. “At least somebody wants to see him shirtless. Can you say as much, Guard Captain?”  
She shrugs with a peaceful half smile, face tilted up in the sunlight.  
“I think that if she takes the armor off she dies instantly,” I offer.  
Aveline doesn’t bother to look over or open her eyes.“Go sink already.”


	2. ???

Daisy and Rivaini sit with me on the pier, propped against each other, feet swinging over the edge. “That one!” Daisy points to a crate being carried off a little craft bobbing nearby. “It’s coming from Orlais and it’s full of hats for you, Isabela. Hats with jeweled pins, hats with sweeping feathers, hats that don’t blow off in the wind.”   
Isabela leans her head on Daisy’s shoulder. “It’s perfect, Kitten. Look, I think this one is carrying your baby griffin, all the way from the Anderfels.”  
Daisy bites her lip, following the crate with her gaze. “He'll be rather squashed in there, won’t he?”  
“Oh.” Isabela pauses to consider. “Well, there are lots of air holes. Magic air holes. And it’s temporary, after all.”  
Daisy nods her assent and grabs my hand. “See that little one, Varric? It’s carrying the best plot twist in the world.”   
I give her hand a squeeze. “Just what I needed, Daisy. You always seem to know.”


	3. ???

Anders stops staring vacantly into the middle distance and fixes a glassy-eyed glare on the elf. “Tell me one thing. Just one thing, can you manage that?”   
“No.” Fenris is more-than-slightly louder than necessary, and a couple of heads swivel towards our table.  
Anders turns to me in outrage, tears brimming. “You see? He won't even answer one question, Varric. It was one question. Which takes me to my next point-”  
Fenris downs the rest of his drink, slams the glass on the table and mutters something nasty-sounding in Tevene. “Let’s just skip to the part where my life threatens your narrow worldview so you run to Hawke crying ‘persecution.’ Shall we?”  
Hawke peers up from assiduously braiding a sleeping Merrill’s hair. “Sure,” she says. “I, for one, am in.” This sends Isabela into a fit of helpless laughter, and she drops her braid.   
Anders bristles and glares harder, jabbing a finger at the elf. “It’s funny you of all people should mention running crying to Hawke-”   
“Yes!” Isabela smacks her fist on the table, jolting Merrill awake. “Excellent!”   
I’m pretty someone’s about to start glowing when Aveline lays a firm hand on each of their shoulders. “I think that’s just about enough for one night. Pack it up.”


	4. ????

“Right. I'll just say it, then. Fenris, what are you going to do about this place?”  
The elf looks up from his cards, bemused. “Must I do something?”  
Aveline gestures around her in a sweeping arc. “Broken glass and bloodstains, skeletons and ichor everywhere. You truly don’t see a problem?”  
“Oh, please, Aveline. Do you know how much harder it is to brood without the all drafts and cobwebs and bones?”  
Aveline’s frown deepens in my direction and she is opening her mouth to retort when Rivaini cuts in.   
“Varric’s right. I think it works. Although, Fenris, you might consider how much harder the mummified corpses will make it to score if you ever bring someone back here.” She’s stepped in a wine puddle on her way in, and absently scrapes the sole of her boot against her chair leg as she considers the matter further. “Unless you’re able to find someone with very specific tastes.”  
“It’s something to consider, certainly.” Fenris’ tone is dry, and Isabela snorts.  
She turns to Aveline. “In any case, I think our Guard Captain’s nesting instinct is kicking in. Going to shield bash your way to domestic bliss, Aveline?”  
“As if you’d know anything about it. I’m fairly certain your only home is a barstool.”  
“Not just any barstool!” I raise my voice in indignation. “It’s a barstool at the Hanged Man, and don’t you forget it.”


End file.
